


Old Friends

by awanderingmuse



Category: Valdemar Series - Mercedes Lackey
Genre: Future Fic, Gen, Take a Thief AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-19
Updated: 2012-08-19
Packaged: 2017-11-12 11:39:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/490481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/awanderingmuse/pseuds/awanderingmuse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What happens when Skif runs into people from his past? Shenanigans, hilarity, and a touch of angst ensue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Roof Walker

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer:I do not own Take a thief. All recognizable characters, world features, and plot devices belong to.  
> Originally posted on FF.net and LiveJournal [here](http://awanderingmuse.livejournal.com/8724.html)

People milled all around Skif, searching for the best item for the lowest price. In fact that was the reason for his presence in the over crowed market. He was looking for a welcome home present for Talia. The only problem was he could not, for the life of him, figure out what to get her. Talia had everything she could ever want and more, just like him. They had both gone without for the majority of their lives, the collegiums offered everything they could ever want. Still he wanted to give her something, but what?

A merchant called out to him from one of the many stalls, beckoning him to come see his many wares. The merchant sold musical instruments. Most of it was extremely opulent for his taste. There was one thing that caught his eye, a pipe, a nice, well polished, wooden pipe. He wondered what it sounded like in passing. Talia’s old pipe was in horrid condition. It had collected many dings and scratches from varying sources over time. In his opinion she needed a new one, so if it did not cost too much, he would get it for her. Congratulating himself on being so clever he went to the merchant to buy the instrument.However before he even began his transaction a cry of “Thief!” went up amongst the crowd. A part of him from long ago instinctually balked at the accusatory yell. He was being impractical of course; he had not stolen anything (without a direct order, just cause, or returning the item) in years. Someone else had been caught with his hands in the wrong pockets, and as a Herald it was his duty to at least make sure the Watch caught the perpetrator. Though he would not get involved in the punishing, he attempted to not hear cases of theft.  
Skif cast a regretful glance towards the pipe then left it behind, wading through the onlookers. He observed the situation before he could even hear the words being exchanged. A behemoth of a man had his hand on a fairly bedraggled little’s shoulder while calmly explaining something to the Watch. As he neared he could hear what the oddly familiar voice was saying.“‘S all okay ‘ere, sir. Jus’ a misunderstandin’ between m’ an’ the boy.”The young boy nodded his head demurely. His pitiful appearance was very believable, but that was the trademark of a good thief.The guard grunted in annoyance, having just been disturbed over nothing. He smartly turned on his heel, leaving the citizens to go about their business as if nothing had transpired. The bulwark of a man though never let the child go; in fact Skif saw his grip tighten the slightest bit when the child struggled to escape.

After a long moment, in which the onlookers dissipated the giant growled “Give the necklace back to M’ boy or I’ll take ya right back to ‘em.”

The boy immediately dug through his pockets a sorrowful expression crossing his otherwise ordinary features, he clearly did not want to risk that the man would keep to his word. “’Ere” he said sourly, he moved to run off again, but stopped surprised when the man pressed a Silver into his small hand. 

“Go ge’ yourself somethin’ t’ eat.” He said, finally letting the boy go. Skif thought he saw a shadow of a smile cross the man’s face. Then he shook his head as if shooing some day dream away and wandered back to his post, guarding one of the many merchant’s carts. Skif assumed from the sword hanging at his side.

Skif followed the man till he was able to walk beside him. He thought he might know the man, or not, but he wanted to find out. “That was very generous of you.” Skif said as he fell in pace with the man. “Many would have turned that boy into the Watch without a thought. Not let him run free and give him a Silver.”

“Mos’ don’ steal cause the want t’, they do it ‘cause they have t’, Herald.” He added the title belatedly as he glanced over and saw that Skif wore Herald whites.

Skif got a better look at the face, and from this angle he wondered how he had ever doubted the man’s identity. It was clear though that Deek didn’t recognize him. Of course if Deek had changed then Skif had become a new person, all but literally. So it was an understandable mistake. Still he couldn’t resist helping himself to the contents of Deeks pockets, while saying, “Still why save and help him? He’ll just get caught taking from someone else.”

Deek sighed heavily. “Look, it’s a long an’ complicated story, one which you mayn’t understand. So I’d rather not tell you.”

Skif fought to keep a straight face. Poor Deek probably thought his history as a roof walker was about to catch up with him and in a way it was. All thought it would happen without the negative consequences he was expecting.

“From the sympathy you have for that boy and your accent,” he said carefully “I’d say that you used to be like him. And that while you know he’ll probably get caught you won’t be the one to turn him in.” 

Deek stopped in the middle of the street to stare at him in disbelief. His eyes however narrowed, warning Skif that he was convinced that as an unknown Herald Skif was laying out some kind of elaborate trap. Clearly he needed to drop a hint at who he was, though he wanted to see if Deek would figure out Skifs identity on his own.

“I mean same goes for me. I don’t even like to judge theft cases because I… ah, sympathize with them too much.”

“You sympathize too much?” Deek asked suspiciously.

“Yeah.” Skif said deciding to practically tell Deek who he was since he wasn’t getting it. “I have a soft spot for the people around exiles gate, since I grew up there.” Then, when the only look he got from Deek was disbelief, he said in a thick accent and a pitched voice. “Used ter be I stole from the highborns as much as tha’ boy does, f’ not more. Probably got better swag fer it to.” 

Skif saw recognition flash in Deeks eyes. “Oh, and I guess you’ll be wanting these back.” He said handing his old friend the items he had just stolen, with a satisfied grin.

“Y-You!” Deek managed to choke out staring at him in amazement.

“Me?” Skif asked making his eyes wide with feigned innocence, “What about me?” A hand went up to his heart in mock surprise.

Deek gave Skif a measuring look and whispered sharply, “Wha’ you doin wearin’ Herald whites? It’ll be bad f’ you ge’ caught.”

“Well, I have to, you see.” Skif said despairingly “Or Selenay get’s unhappy.”

“The Queen?” Deek asked more confused instead of less. Of course no one from his past life would ever guess that Skif of all people became a Herald.

“Yeah, course she let’s Alberich walk around like a storm cloud all day, which really isn’t fair.” He smiled at Deek who was looking at him with dismay.

“You mean they accepted, you? A thief?”

“Well they didn’t really have a choice. Cymry chose me and they had to accept it.”

“I bet Baize loved that.” Deek said shaking his head in disbelief.

Skif's shoulders fell at the mention of his old mentor and at the realization that Deek didn’t know about the fire. 

“’’Ow is he, anyway?” Deek asked oblivious to Skifs reaction to their old mentor’s name.

Skif sighed, and swung an arm around Deeks shoulder, “How about I get you off work for the day and we go talk over a drink.”

“No need.” Deek said, “It’s m’ las’ day anyways.”

Skif grunted in surprise and understanding, feeling even worse about having to tell him bad news and steered him towards the collegiums.

“Skif,” Deek said wairily, “You’re headin’ away from the Arm.”

“I’m not going to give you that watered down stuff.” Skif said, “No, we’re going home to drink from my personal stores.”

“But, wha’ about the Guard?” he asked uneasily.

“They won’t question a Herald.”

He guided him through the winding streets and to the Collegium. 

They reached Skif’s home without much ado and Skif went to the cabinet containing all his good wine. “So what happened to you? You left with some merchants and never came back.” He asked as he poured their drinks and put off the inevitable.

“Been back, lotsa times.” Deek said uncaringly, as Skif sat down near him. “Jus’ never ha’ time to come by, the merchants kep’ m’ real busy like. Watchin’ for thieves and wha’ not. I was goin’ ter see Bazie tomorrow, f’ you want t’ come.”

“Ah,” Skif managed to reply, all too interested in his wine glass. “Well, Bazie and I missed you and the other guys of course. Have you heard from them at all?”

“No.” Deek said, eyeing him carefully, it was suddenly painfully obvious that Skif was skirting the Bazie topic. “So how’d you get t’ be a Herald?” He finally asked, assuming he and Bazie had fought over Skif becoming a Herald.

Skif took a deep breath and stole himself to tell Deek the bad news. “That would be an extremely long story. Deek.” He said, “I’ve got some bad news to tell you.”

“You two fought didn’ you. I mean tha’s bad, but I’m sure he’s forgiven you. Come wi’ me tomorrow, an’ we’ll ge’ it all fixed.”

“He’s dead.” Skif interrupted suddenly, then more gently he said “There was a fire, a set fire; it burned everything to the ground. There was no way for Bazie to escape.” Skif paused fighting back the memories “I’m only alive because I was on a job.”

“Wha’,” Deek, said shocked. “No, it can’t be. Bazie couldn’ die in a fire.”

“He did. I saw the flames, and killed the men that did it.”

Deek’s chair fell back with a loud clatter as he abruptly stood. “Bazie got caugh’ n’ a fire an’ you didn’t do anythin’ t’ save ‘im!” The large man yelled shocked at the news.

“I tried too,” Skif said, old grief clogging his voice “honestly I did. But I was a restrained by Alberich who I didn’t know at the time. Well knocked out really.”

Poor Deek seemed at a total loss. He stood in the middle of Skif’s room, broad shoulders shaking, eyes filled with grief. His mouth opened and closed a couple of times like a caught fish. He was clearly grasping for a retort, a way to prove that Skif was wrong, but he couldn’t think of anything to say.

Skiff poured him another glass of wine, and told his friend to sit down. Deek did as he was told and took the offered glass, staring at the liquid as if it somehow held the secrets to life and death. There was a long silence, where Deek contemplated his glass and Skif let him. He knew how hard this information was to swallow. He could almost remember being drunk out of his mind for days, after the fire. The memory of how difficult that time had been was better marked by his lack of remembrance.

“I can’ believe he’s gone.” Deek finally said when he seemed capable of speech. “I spen’ years believin’ he was alive, an’ he’s not.” Deek’s eyes shone a little brighter with unshed grief “E’ was like a father t’ me.” He finally explained helplessly.

“I know,” Skif tried to console him. “He was a father to all of us.”

“What ‘appened?”He finally asked after another moody silence.

“That night?” Skif asked rhetorically, “Well the boys Lyle had found were horrible at just about every aspect of being a thief. We were trying to teach them the lift n’ lay, but they weren’t at the level of bringing anything home yet.” Skif outlined the story carefully. He talked about the theft of the Kalink’s house hold. Deek perked up a bit here, and nodded appreciatively of a job well done. He told of the fire and of Jarmin taking him in. He told Deek about the months spent tracking Jass, and Jass’s boss. He talked about getting chosen and breaking into Londers house to get information. Finally he summarized his and Alberich’s capture and the death of Guildmaster Vatean.

“Killing Vatean didn’t really help.” Skif concluded morosely. “It definitely didn’t bring Bazie or the boys back. “

“At least ‘e can’t hurt anyone else.” Deek reassured Skif and himself.

Skif nodded, “That’s kind of what Alberich said.”

“Your Alberich sounds like a interestin’ person. Knockin’ you senseless, then ‘elping you ge’ revenge an’ givin’ you advice. ”

“I can introduce you.” Skif offered, hoping to get Deek’s mind off the tragedy.

“’E won’t be busy?” That he did not question the safety of an ex-thief speaking with an unknown Herald said a lot about Deek’s trust in Skif.

“Well, he’ll probably be training someone, but he won’t mind. I’ll show you this trick I’ve learned with throwing knives.”

Deek forced a small smile. “Alright Imp. Les’ go.”

They left the room as Skif loudly complained about being called an Imp. He didn’t really mind though. While he wished he hadn’t had to break the news of Bazie’s death to Deek, he was glad to know that the man was alive and well. He also felt that it was better for Deek to have heard the news from him, then to have gone through the grieving process alone. 

They reached the salle to hear the sound of Albrich yelling orders at some trainees. Skif ushered Deek through one of the doors and helped himself to the targets. They threw knifes for awhile and only were acknowledged by Albrich when they got into a minor mock fight over something trivial.


	2. Lift N' Lay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based on Take a Thief. What happens when Skif runs into people from his past? Shenanigans, hilarity, and a touch of angst ensue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Take a Thief. All familiar characters, world features, and plot devices belong to Mercedes Lackey.  
> Originally posted on FF.net and LiveJournal [here](http://awanderingmuse.livejournal.com/9022.html)

The sky was turning brilliant shades of pink and orange that spoke of dusk as Skif and Cymry rode into the outcropping of trees. They were in a farming area close to Karse. The farmers were sending reports of bandits. He and Cymry had been sent to investigate. He became more watchful as the small section of trees closed in around them. He was glad he had taken Cymry’s bells off her tack and wrapped them in cloth before placing them in his saddle bags. He would hate for the bells to make a betraying clink while in the stand of trees. It would be a great place for the bandits in question to hide.

As he rode deeper into the miniature forest his mind began to wander. He should really find a place to bed down for the night. Obviously he would have to make camp since there were no Waystations in the area. He wanted to get out in to the open first, away from this stand of trees where it would be easier for him to miss an ambush. Not that he liked being an open target either, but that seemed to be the lesser of two evils at the moment. 

As if in response to his thoughts Cymry balked and sent him a mental warning that a trap had closed about them. Skif cursed himself vehemently for not paying attention, while scanning the area for both the attackers and a way out. Cymry laid her ears on the back of her head and bugled another warning. A heart beat later the full weight of a man threw Skif out of her saddle and onto the ground. The attacker had taken the brief moment in the air to gain advantage. So that when Skif finally realized he had landed, he also had to acknowledge that he was quiet forcefully pinned to the ground. The same weight that had knocked him from Cymry’s saddle pushed him deeper into the dirt. In his peripheral vision he saw vaguely human shapes surround them, blocking his escape even if he could get free from the weight atop him. He had to admit these men, probably the bandits, were good. However, he was surprised they had attacked a Herald, they typically avoided that. It was not like Heralds were difficult to spot.

He wondered where his Companion was and reached out to her with his mind. He felt that she should be kicking the men around him out of the way, and pulling the one pinning him to the ground off his back. He finally contacted her, harder to do with the fresh smell of loam invading the senses and small rocks pricking at ones face. At the soft caress of her mind he found that she was laughing at him. Laughing, at him! He could not help but relax a little along with becoming annoyed. Clearly she did not think these men an actual threat, which was comforting. However, he also wished she’d do something to make the men let him up so he could figure out what was going on.

Just then a rough voice declared, “It’s a Herald! Let him up, let him up!” Skif was allowed to stand up and brushed the filth from his once clean whites. The men were not looking at him but at Cymry, in a mix of horror and awe. The awe was at the sight of a Companion, and horror that they had just attacked her Herald. Cymry came to stand beside him and he took confidence in her presence as the men’s attention was returned to him. 

“So,” he said coolly, “Anyone want to explain why I was just knocked from my Companions back?”

Another figure stepped forward, allowing his outline and portions of his body to be seen in the light filtering through the tress. His face, though, remained hidden in the shadows of dusk. “We didn’t mean any ‘arm by it.” The man said in a farmer’s accent, with a hint of something Skif could almost recognize underneath it. “Just protecting what’s ours.” There was a hint of amusement in his voice now. As if the entire situation was somehow funny, making Skif all the more wary. He was mostly convinced that the men were bandits; he just did not understand why Cymry did not seem to care. His Companion was keeping oddly quite on subject, only adding to Skif’s annoyance. 

His frustration showed when he spoke, “What are you protecting, in the midst of trees that belong to no one?” Skif knew his voice was sharp and he was not exactly acting professionally by letting this man get to him, but he could not bring himself to care. The infuriating man that was steadily becoming hidden by growing shadows did not respond. This caused an infuriated Skif to demand he tell him, a Herarld, what his purpose in the wood was. He was determined to get some answers and silently laid a first level truth spell on the group of men. With the spell laid on the whole group only Skif could see who was lying and who was not. 

Finally the leader of the group spoke, but not to answer any of Skifs questions. Instead he asked a question of his own. “Would you like to sup with us at our camp?”

“Would I like to eat with you?” Skif asked mystified and well past annoyed. “No, I want to know who you people are! Are you thieves? ”

The general consensus amongst the men was that they were not thieves. Skif’s Truth Spell revealed that most of them were telling the truth, except the leader. When he said that he was not the air around him turned red, revealing the deception, but only to Skif’s eyes.

“We aren’t thieves,” The leader assured him, while a cloud of red pulsed around his form. “We’re farmers, protecting what’s ours from thieves.” As he claimed to be a farmer the red glow went away confusing Skif. How could someone be both a thief and a farmer protecting his own? He was sufficiently confused.

“That doesn’t explain why you’re out roaming around the country side when you should be eating dinner with your families.” Skif retorted. 

“Like we’ve said, we’re guardin’ our families.”

“Why here? And why did you attack me?”

“Because it seems like a good place for bandits to hide!”The man who had knocked Skiff off Cyrmy said. 

“Wha’ bandit wears Whites Darel?” The leader snapped, turning to his man and disappearing entirely in shadow. “Actually look a’ your target next time. I’d ruther avoid unnecessary confrontations when possible.”

Skif had to snort at that. He also could not refrain from asking the men why they took their orders from a liar and therefore a thief. The farmers all looked at each other dumbfounded and then started shouting over the rest. All were in a hurry to explain to the Herald that their beloved commander was in no way a thief.

The leader turned around and asked, “What makes you think I’m a thief?”

“Truth Spell.” Was Skif’s honest answer, “And I think it’s wrong of you to be leading these men against your own kind without letting them know what you are.”

“You’re one to talk.” The man said as if discussing the weather.

“What are you talking about?” he asked confused by the man’s matter of fact manner. How could some farmer know about his past? He was considering the possibility that the man had heard rumors of a pickpocket amongst the heralds, when he spoke again. 

“It’s odd seeing a Roof Walker in Herald Whites, but I can see where it might be a useful skill to have.”

Now Skif froze. Not a muscle in him moved. Who was this? How did he know? The something else in the man’s accent was from Exiles Gate. Not that that helped in identifying him. Skif was trying to concoct a way to ask who he was, but the man started speaking again.

“’Course the Whites explain why you weren’t caught in the fire. I’ve never been able to find Bazie so I assume he’s dead.”

Skif swallowed the curses he was about to spew and actually tried to examine the man as best he could in the dimness. In response the man laughed at his furrowed brow and stepped into a spot where light still filtered through the dense foliage. 

Skif yelled in delight and sprang forward, disregarding the harmonized tension in the surrounding farmer’s and their tightened grips on their weapons. “Lyle!” He shouted with something close to childlike joy. 

The normally stoic framer laughed, “Good to see you too, Imp.”

“I’m not an Imp.” He protested weakly.

“You’re the youngest.” Lyle responded. Then to his men, who all looked rather disconcerted he said. “Fellas, this is my little brother Skif. Skif, my neighbors.”

Skif nodded and said hello to the men. He was more than slightly relieved when they lowered their weapons. An act that spoke volumes on the trust they placed in Lyle.

“So where were you headed, anyways?” Lyle asked casually.

“Oh, to talk to the head of a bandit plagued group of farmers. Thing is I’ve been tramping around the country side for a while, and I always seem to have just missed him. Not that I wanted to go on the trip at all, rumor has it he’s a sly one. Possibly mean. ” Was Skifs teasing remark.

“Well clearly you kept missing me because you were going about finding me like a city boy. So what are you going to say regarding my character, when you go back?”

“Oh,” Skif said easily, “well I’ll tell Selany that you’re the worst sort of scoundrel, but an okay fellow over all.”

Lyle laughed heartily slapping Skif on the back. “She’ll think you’re describing yourself.” He retorted, adding an offer to stay with his family for the night.

Skiff grinned at the pickpocket turned farmer. “I’m not supposed to accept special treatment.”

Lyle shook his head. “It’s not special treatment; it’s stopping by your family’s place for a bit. And I’m not taking no for an answer.”

When Skif continued to hesitate he added, “Besides, if you get the information you need from me tonight, there’s nothing keeping you from leaving first thing in the morning. After we have a good breakfast of course.”

Skif couldn’t resist that offer and agreed to return home with Lyle. Lyle looked to his second, the man who had tackled Skif, and instructed him and his men to finish the sweep and then go home to their wives. Then Lyle led him back towards a farmhouse he had visited earlier that day. Skif remarked that the farmwife had simply told him that he had just missed Lyle, and failed to mention that he lived there. Lyle laughed good-naturedly and replied that his wife tended to be wary of Heralds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	3. Caught

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What happens when Skif runs into people from his past? Shenanigans, hilarity, and a touch of angst ensue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer:I do not own Take a thief. All recognizable characters, world features, and plot devices belong to.  
> Originally posted on FF.net and LiveJournal [here](http://awanderingmuse.livejournal.com/9297.html)

Skif paced the collegium hallway, clearly exasperated. He would never understand why Seleany wanted him involved with this particular assignment. Helping ex-pickpockets teach the guard how thieves operated, sure. That made sense. He could understand that. Helping to “guard them”, despite the fact that they were no longer convicts. He didn’t get it.

When Seleany had told him of the job, she had said something about the Nobles wanting the convicts watched. He supposed the notion made sense, in a ridiculous, noble-brained way. It was almost rational, if you were a paranoid noble. However, to Skif, and probably the convicts they were supposed to be rewarding for excellent behavior, it seemed insane. Who would rob the palace in broad daylight while working with the guard? Not a well-trained thief, that’s for sure.  
In Skif’s opinion it was insulting as well. It seemed to him that having an ex-thief as their guard wouldn’t help the ex-convicts opinion of the queen. He had told her as much. She had disagreed. Telling him they would appreciate working with someone they could identify with, and that he had to accept it.

“Bothered, you are.” Alberich said from the shadows. Skif had wondered how long it would take for the Herald to admit he was there.

He grunted in response; Alberich couldn’t have made a more obvious statement. The weapons master leaned on a wall near him, and waited for Skif to reply.

“And you aren’t?” Skif finally asked. “She’s asking you to review them and me to keep an eye on them. And we’re practically on the same footing.” 

Alberich arched an eyebrow at him and Skif snorted.

“I mean, we were like them, but forgiven. Right? They’re thieves not idiots. They’ll see the insult.”

“And do nothing about it.” Alberich assured him, “They will know the work is necessary and do it.”

“They’ll have no respect for Selaney, or the guards they’re teaching!” Skif exclaimed, “They’ll walk right back in to the street and steal, all because they were given the message ‘once a thief always a thief’. You can’t expect someone to stop a habit like that if you don’t let them know that you believe they can.”

“Could that not be why Selaney chose me and you for this particular job?”

“I don’t see your point.”

“Why show belief in a person’s ability to change, when you can show proof?” Albrich asked pointedly.

“They’ll think we’re special cases.”

“I think not.” Albrich said gently, putting a hand on Skif’s shoulder. “Come, we are expected at the gate.”

Skif protested half-heartedly, but followed Albrich to the gate. Hopefully this could be done quickly and he could go on to his other duties.

At the gate five ex-pickpockets were lined up. Skif had a morbid curiosity about how each one was caught. Though for three of them it was rather easy to figure out. Their features were very distinctive; from a glance Skif would have been able to pick them out of a crowd.

The other two must have made mistakes. They were as plain faced as Raf had been. There were differences between them, sure. One had longer hair than the other. One was shorter. It wasn’t that they were identical. Their features just sat on a scale from middle to middle, so that you couldn’t pick them out of a crowd.

Alberich stepped forward, clearing his throat to insure he had their attention. He then proceeded to introduce himself and Skif. After he was done ‘approving’ their presence in the palace Skif debriefed them on what they would be doing.  
Talking about the lift n’ lay made it very easy to forget that he was acting as a Herald. Without realizing it he started using theft jargon that the pickpockets were familiar with.

When he was finished one of the distinctive men asked, “So if y’ know all ‘bout it, why are we ‘ere?”

Skif frowned in confusion. With a glance at Alberich, who shook his head, he realized what he had done.

The other men were agreeing with the first man. Skif had to explain himself. The trouble was he didn’t have an answer to the well asked question. So he did what any good thief would, he made something up. “The Queen want’s the guard to be taught from multiple points of view. Not just what I know.”

“You mean t’ say that th’ Queen knows you’re no good at th’ lift n’ lay, and want’s professionals t’ teach ‘em?” One of the plain faced men asked, taking a somewhat familiar cocky stance.

“Excuse me?” Skif demanded of the man. What did he think he knew? He examined the man closer, wondering if he was one of the thieves that Baize’s boys had out stolen. Then he saw it. This particular plain faced man didn’t look like Raf. He was- “Raf?” Skif asked with rising certainty.

“Y’ know this Herald, Raf?” The man who had questioned him asked. 

“Sure, Len. Tha’s Skif, th’ best,” Skif glared at him when he started to say the word ‘roofwalker’, “Erm, laundress we ever had.”

If he hadn’t been so glad that Raf had picked up on the cue, Skif would have tackled the man. Laundress, seriously, that was the best he could come up with?

The group had a good laugh at Skif’s expense. Then one of the other men clapped Skif on the shoulder in a companionable fashion. “Y’ could’ve jus’ said y’ needed someone t’ give examples.” He informed the herald with a grin. That put everyone’s mind back to work.

When they got to the guard room Skif decided to show the guards exactly why it was harder to catch some pickpockets over others. He motioned to Raf and Len. “Alright,” Skif asked the guard in place of a call to order, “Which pickpocket is least likely to be caught?”

“Now how are we supposed to know that?” One of the officers asked incredulously, “We haven’t seen them in action.”

“They were all caught!” another reminded him. He pointedly ignored him.

“Just take a guess.” Skif encouraged the group, “You should be able to tell, just by looking at them.” The guards looked flabbergasted at the claim. Then, much to Skif’s amusement started staring at the men’s hand, as if that would tell them anything. Skif decided that it was time to ask for a show of hands.

“Who think’s Raf would be a better pickpocket?” Skif asked gesturing to Raf. Only a few raised their hands, they seemed to be guessing. He sighed inwardly. Apparently there was a lot of teaching to do. “Alright, who think’s Len?” The rest of the room raised their hands, probably going off the fact that Len had longer fingers. Skif sighed for real this time, did they really believe that longer fingers equated better skill?

Skif shook his head. “Believe it or not Raf is least likely to get caught. Can anyone hazard a guess as to why?”

“’Cause he worked with you?” one of the men guessed.

Raf and Skif grinned at each other. “Good guess. But not the answer I’m looking for. Would one of you like to explain it to them?” He asked the group of ex-pickpockets.

“You can’t pick ‘im outta a crowd.” Len replied easily, “Too plain lookin’.”

Skif nodded and continued the lesson, letting the pickpockets give examples as he went.  
After a while lunch was called. Most of the men excused themselves and went back into the city to meet up with various people. Raf stayed with Skif though curious to know how exactly Skif became a Herald. They headed to Companions Field because Raf wanted to meet Cymry.

A while later a guard found the pair to tell them that they were needed back at the guard house. The guard then left them to go back to his post and to ask his friends exactly how it was that the pickpocket Herald could walk across old fencing as if it were the ground.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
